Rehabilitating Will
by Faline1
Summary: FIXED! I SWEAR IT! Jack returns to Port Royale to find out what happened to his friends Will and Elizabeth. What he finds is a broken man who needs to be taught how to live again.
1. The Return

Title: Rehabilitating Will

Author: Faline

Rated: R

Summary: Jack returns to Port Royale to see Will and Elizabeth. What he finds is a broken man. 

**Chapter One: The Return**

The letters from Will had dwindled in the last year or so. 

At first, there was always a missive for Jack Smith at the general store the next island over. It was almost ritual for the blacksmith to write his friend at least once a month. But, since the last letter carrying the sad news that Elizabeth had fallen sick, Jack hadn't received a note. No letters, no notes, no signal fires. He chuckled slightly, then frowned. A large amount of rum was no way to start a signal fire. 

One of his crewmembers shouted from below. Jack looked down. 50 feet below him, his sailors scurried around like mice, looking for some cheese. The swabby pointed to the south. Jack knew what he'd find there. 

_Port Royale.___

It had been years since he'd been there. Since the day he'd escaped and finally gotten his ship back. In a moment of panic, he pulled off his hat and ran a hand throughhis hair in a gesture he'd picked up not too long ago. 

He wondered how Will Turner would react to his appearance. At that moment, Jack was just hoping to _find _Will.

He gave the signal and the shipmates prepared to send a boat to shore. 

They pulled into dock just as the sun was setting. The citizens who saw the ship almost instantly recognized the black sails as the ship that'd attacked their homes less than three years before. However, they were not expecting the man who the ship's crew called captain. 

Jack Sparrow looked, for all intents and purposes, like a different man. His goatee was well groomed and trimmed close to his face. The hair most had called trademark was free of the trinkets but not the braids. It had been re-braided, this time well kept and tied back. Aside from the braids, his head was bare for a second before he jammed his hat back on. It was a deep caramel color that had hidden under the bandana for fifteen years. The hair itself was subjected to bleaching by the sun, yet never lost the shine. 

As he stepped onto the dock, a man stopped him and asked his name. "Smith." He gave the old man a charming smile and Jack knew without a doubt that this was the same man he'd bribed with three monies to forget he'd ever been there. Digging five pieces out, he placed it on the man's book. 

"We won't be here long mate. I trust you can wait until tomorrow morning to record our presence." 

The man laughed. "Your ship is easy to spot my friend. Chances are, your presence here has already been recorded by those up at the fort." 

Jack smiled and looked back at his ship, which was now invisible in the mist that had swept into the harbor following at their rudder. "You were saying?" 

He turned back to the man, who's mouth sagged as he stared at the now completely white harbor. "No worries. We'll be back in the morning." 

Jack called for the men in the rowboat, all of whom, save two, joined him. The other two pulled away from the dock. "Be back here at sun-up, no exceptions." They nodded at him. 

"Gentlemen, we have a blacksmith to find." 

His men grunted and they set out into the city.


	2. The Reunion

**Chapter Two: ****Reunion******

The pounding was never-ending in the world of Will Turner. It seemed like the days heÕd spent in his room were ceaseless in their fervor. And always the pounding. 

He could seethe blade. The red hot metal as he pounded it and folded it over and over again, forging it and strengthening the Toledo steel. The endless repetition that once soothed his soul now haunted his mind. 

He opened his eyes, hoping that maybe his surroundings could wrench him from his thoughts. But, all he saw were her eyes. Those last moments, as she smiled up at him, her face pale with the life that was gone. Those eyes though, they spoke volumes. They told him what she couldnÕt say himself

_ÔGo Will. Live your life. I love you, but just go.Õ_

It was the same thing she told him before the last seizure took her speech. That she loved him and that he should be happy. She told him to find Jack and follow his free life on the sea. 

_Jack_

The feelings that flooded him every time he thought of his friend were strange. He wasnÕt quite sure what they were exactly. Jack was his friend; his confidant. When they had wrote, they had told each other almost everything. Each regaled the other of their childhood, JackÕs as an orphan in the Caribbean and WillÕs as an English boy. Each had told the other things no one else knew. 

But that was gone now. 

Will was all alone. He reached beside him, and grabbed for the only letter that Will still had in his possession from Jack. He looked down. One line grabbed his attention. 

_ÕAfter a week of storms, we finally landed in a small Spanish port known as __Trujillo__. The dirt here is black, just like the beautiful hair of the whores who wander the street. I found a beautiful one named Mercedes. When she took me back to her room, the most peculiar thing happened. Nothing! My equipment, if you will ,wouldnÕt respond. ItÕs a problem IÕve been having for weeks . . . '_

Jack, so open. So free to live. Jack, who was his only friend, yet was so far. 

His eyes started to sting with that familiar feeling of loss. The letter dropped as he buried his hands in his hair. Once again, Will Turner, the man whoÕd freed the Black Pearl from itÕs dreaded curse, cried into the empty night. 

!~!~!~!~ 

After a few well placed inquiries, Jack and his crew found themselves in front of what used to be the Will and Elizabeth Turner residence. It was a charming two story home on the edge of the city. Jack knew her family would outfit them well. He didnÕt realize theyÕd do this well. 

He knocked on the door, but swayed back when it was swung open by a disgruntled looking servant. "Wadda ye want?" 

The stench of alcohol on the man was amazing. Jack leaned in, smelling and savoring the smells of a fine Caribbean rum before he cleared his throat and leaned back. "IÕm lookinÕ for Will and Elizabeth Turner. Are they in?" He smiled, his teeth flashing white against his tanned face. 

The man looked down on him for a moment and Jack was sure heÕd pick a fight. Then, the manÕs eyes filled with tears and he stepped back from the door a step. "The misses is dead. SheÕs been so for nigh 6 months." 

JackÕs heart froze for a moment before he remembered he wasnÕt supposed to have a heart. Well, thatÕs what that trollop on that one island had told him. 

"Mr. Turner is locked up in the insane asylum down the street. I trust thatÕs what you came for." The man shut the door crisply in his face. 

JackÕs question died on his lips as he found solid wood his only speaking companion. He turned to his mate, shrugged, and led the way down to the road. At the gate, he looked north and south down the road. South led back to Port Royale. And they certainly didnÕt remember _seeing_ an insane asylum. But they hadnÕt been looking. 

He looked to the north. It was a dark stretch of high way. In the distance, someone screamed. Jack smiled grimly, and set off north, slightly weaving in the wheel ruts. 

!~!~!~!~! 

The air was changing ever so slightly. It was slightly damp. It felt like fog. 

Not just _any_ fog. 

The fog that followed the Black Pearl, even after the curse had been lifted. Will lifted his head and stood. Every joint and muscle in his body screamed in protest as hestretched parts of his body that heÕd forgotten how to use. 

Memories years old started to creep into his conscious and he grinned. Will moved to the window. Craning his neck, he saw the fog spread out over the harbor and he knew. He just knew that Jack had come for him. 

Someone unlocked his door. He turned his eyes and was immediately blinded by the unfamiliar light of a torch. 

"ÕEre he is gents. DonÕ know Ôow much Ôelp eÕll be to ye. ÔEÕs crazy as a bat! Been Ôere nigh two years he Ôas." His jailer, a corpulent man name Wiggins, stepped aside and took the torch with him. As WillÕs eyes adjusted, he recognized the shape that stepped through the door as the one and only Captain Jack Sparrow. 

"Jack, IÕm so glad youÕre here!" Will stepped forward, but stopped short when he finally saw the manÕs face. 

He was nearly clean-shaven. His hair was pulled back, framing his face. And he was wearing clean clothing. Will stepped forward. He raised his hand and traced the manÕs cheek. The skin, although still tough, was soft to his touch. 

"Jack?" It was a whisper, a plea. Begging that the swashbuckling pirate heÕd come to think of as his closest friend, more than a friend, was here instead of this well-groomed man. 

"Jack?"

"Aye Will, itÕs me." 

WillÕs eyes filled again. Jack opened his arms and Will fell forward into them. He was silent as the tears dripped. 

"IÕve waited so long for you to come for me. So long for you to take me away. To become a pirate." He pulled away, tears still coming down his face. "To become a pirate, and a good man." 

Jack smiled and ruffled WillÕs hair. "God, you look a mess. DonÕt you believe in things called razors in this place?" He ran a hand down WillÕs jaw, tugging at the beard there that had filled in substantially in two years. Will unconsciously leaned into the touch. 

Will didnÕt realize what he had done. But Jack did. His eyes skimmed the lean body. He was just as well built as ever. "So, Ôtis a pirate you wish to be? Well my good man, tonight you start." 

Will looked into JackÕs eyes and found the humor there. Enough to make him laugh. Jack turned and led the way out of the door. The man following him took one last look around his cell and spat on the floor, ready to feel the ocean air in his hair once more.


	3. The Room of Nightly Pleasures

**Chapter Three: _Desire?_**

"Tree rooms peeze Marie, wit yo' prettiest whores for me friends 'ere." Jack's voice slurred from the simply massive amounts of alcohol he and Will had gone through. Will himself could not stand very well and was leaning heavily on Jack's shoulder. 

Marie, a pretty middle-aged woman, smiled and nodded. "Come in love. Tis been far too long since the great Captain Sparrow has graced me girls wit his presence." 

Jack stopped his forward movement and held up a hand. "Not for me dear. For the other three." He swayed forward as Will lost his balance and fell to the floor in an ungraceful heap. "Minus the one who can't stand." 

Marie just smiled and led the other crewmates upstairs. Jack looked down on Will, not quite sure what to do. "We have a _slight _problem Willy Boy. You're drunk, and I'm drunk, and you've got to come upstairs with me." 

A slight moan from the floorboards proved to be his only answer. 

"Bugger." Jack looked around for some help. There was no one in the front parlor, save the greeting girl who was rather . . . occupied. 

The man swept his hat off his head and ran a hand through his hair before bending over and fetching Will Turner by his ankles. He made slow progress on the stairs; each thump of Will's head against the next step making Jack wince. But it had to bed one. Most definitely had to be done. 

He turned right and headed to the very last room at the end of the hallway. He threw open the door. Light flooded out and for a moment, Jack thought that Marie had actually rented out his room. There was no one inside the room however. Just his bed, turned down and warmed, and a nice hot bath. Jack smiled and finished dragging his friend inside. Jack managed to pick Will up and deposit him on the bed, through much strife and swearing. He pulled off Will's boots and sat down beside the unconscious man to take off his own. 

"I don't know about you my friend, but I think it's time for a bath. But first, let's get you ready for bed." 

Jack didn't know what his full intentions were when he reached for the buttons on Will's soiled shirt. Surely they were innocent. Just helping his friend. Surely he didn't have any other motives. Did he? 

As he revealed Will's chest, the creamy skin he found there called like a siren. It looked so soft, so smooth, so touchable. Jack couldn't resist. He stole a look at Will's face but Will was out like a light. 

Ever so carefully, Jack lowered his face to Will's chest. He stopped inches short of Will's belly button and took in a deep breath. Though covered in filthy clothes, Will retained that smell that Jack had come to recognize as his own. It shocked Jack that he remembered a smell after two years of nothing but salty air and smelly seamen. 

Jack pressed his lips down, his head rising and falling with Will's breath. The skin on the man's stomach was just as soft as Jack had imagined. So smooth. 

He brought a hand up, ran it down Will's side, lightly so as not to wake the boy, and backup. Soft, yet well built. He groaned into Will's skin as a shiver of desire snaked up his spine. 

Shocked, Jack sat up, all contact with Will now broken. Desire? _Desire?_ Where had _that_ come from. He ran a hand through his hair and started to stand. 

He resolved to let the undressing of Will wait until after his bath. He'd be more clear-headed. Jack groaned at the thought of being sober. In retaliation to the evil state of mind, Jack stumbled over to the dresser and pulled a bottle of Russian vodka out. "Bugger, what the hell is this?" He squinted, trying to read the label. "Bloody hell, I can't read!" He opened the bottle and took a swig.

"Goes down smooth at least." Jack took another deep drink. He stumbled to the tub and managed to remove his clothes before sinking into the water. He sighed as the warm liquid reached his neck, and passed out.

!~!~!~!~!

Will awoke with a start. Somewhere to his right, something heavy had just fallen. 

He had no idea where he was.

He was on abed though, that much was obvious. The loud thump came again and he sat up quickly. A bit too quick apparently. He reeled from the pain in his head and fell back down. The biting pain in his temple was horrible. 

_'What the hell have I done to myself?'_

Carefully now, he raised into a sitting position, his feet hanging off the bed he was on. Will surveyed the room, coming to rest on a tub, with Captain Jack Sparrow passed out, or sleeping deeply, inside. He smiled ruefully at his friend's predicament and got to his feet. 

His bare feet.

Will looked down, noticing his toes for the first time. _'How in the bloody hell did my shoes get off?'_ He also noticed his completely unbuttoned shirt for the first time. _'Jesus! I'm half naked!'_ He quickly re-buttoned his shirt and made his way to the tub.

Jack was most certainly passed out. His arm hung limply out of the tub, his fingers barely grazing the wooden floor. He had such . . . wonderful hands.

As Will hovered over Jack, he noticed a slight ripple in the water and looked down. Jack was shivering. He was also completely naked. Will stifled a blush. He had to get Jack out before he froze to death.

Will leaned over and grabbed Jack under his arms and pulled. The unconscious man sat up, his entire body pliant in Will's hands. As Jack's head fell to Will's shoulder with their position, Will took in a deep breath, marveling at the smell of Captain Jack Sparrow.

He shook his head. It was the wrong time to be thinking about things like that.

He fished Jack from the tub and managed to get him to the bed. He dried him off and slipped him under the covers. 

As he stood there and watched the steady rise and fall of Jack's chest he contemplated the last six months. The death of Elizabeth, his own death to the real world and the long days spent in the asylum. 

After Elizabeth had died perhaps he _had_ gone crazy. But not any more. Oh no, the time he spent by himself had been plenty of time to think of everything in his life. More importantly, what was _missing _from his life.

_Jack_

Two years in a dark hole with the memory of Elizabeth's smile and beautiful eyes in his brain. Knowing that she was gone. Knowing that now he had to live without her. That was the worst part. 

But he was free now. Jack had set him free. Jack was here now, and Will wasn't going to make the mistake of letting Jack slip through his fingers again.


End file.
